


One Moment

by hello-reylux (She0l)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Coffee, Coffee Shops, F/M, Military AU, Modern AU, Romance, Snow, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 21:06:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7377355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/She0l/pseuds/hello-reylux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben dug his shoe into the hard snow, wondering what it would have been like to feel the earth bursting under your feet. Would sand fill you up to your ears that you’d be deaf to the world? Would the force fling you into the air, limbs flailing like a ragdoll? Would you even hear yourself scream above the blast? He kicked ice off to find the concrete cement, as if looking for a circular plate of metal hiding underneath. What would it be like to realize you only had one heartbeat left?</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Moment

Ben dug his shoe into the hard snow, wondering what it would have been like to feel the earth bursting under your feet. Would sand fill you up to your ears that you’d be deaf to the world? Would the force fling you into the air, limbs flailing like a ragdoll? Would you even hear yourself scream above the blast? He kicked ice off to find the concrete cement, as if looking for a circular plate of metal hiding underneath. What would it be like to realize you only had one heartbeat left?

An aging couple raised their eyebrows at the large man in coat and jeans, throwing a tantrum in the snow. Ben refused to look at them until the footsteps of their boots faded.

He smelled the sharpness of the cold.

There’s a chance Poe will lose both legs, will be blind in his left eye. He’ll be discharged from service the rest of his life. Ben covered half his face with a palm, trying to make out the difference in depth perception of the wet, snowy street. He had walked into Poe’s hospital room to see the man who used to talk big now look so small, buried underneath blankets. Cords tied him to machines like a dog to the wall. He saw Finn resting his forehead onto his hand holding Poe’s, eyes closed, and Ben felt he had intruded in an intimate moment he had no right to be part of.

Which is why he left the hospital for a walk alone. A hulking snowplow makes high-pitched warning signals as it drives backwards, like the government he isn’t allowed to complain about. War is young men dying and old men talking. An idiot parked their black Mercedes by the curb, and now it sports an inch of snow on its roof and hood. He pictured spending the rest of his day off smashing its tinted windows with a crowbar.

Testor would tease him.

Testor had long black hair, brown eyes, and a sardonic laugh that people in the imminent company of death tend to develop. She was just cracking jokes with them at the mess hall a month ago (“If I go down, put free WiFi on my tombstone so you people will actually visit.”). It was her foot that activated the device. It was her voice that screamed for them all to get away. It was her closed casket that her husband and children had wept upon. She was their platoon’s best shooter. Their friend. Their sister.

Gone.

The air tasted bitter, like needles piercing his tongue.

If Ben had his way, each and every soldier would have their every need – food, shelter, clothing – taken care of for the rest of their lives. They’d have apartment rooms like the five-story ones he was passing by, with large windows so their children could enjoy looking at the city, and sills if they wanted their own tiny gardens. They deserved it. Their families deserved every good thing this country could give to them. Loved ones should just not get themselves killed. What about those hoping for their return? What would happen to them? Ben, at least, had no one. Maybe his remaining buddies in the 104th Battalion, Sierra Company would miss him, maybe his parents would miss him. But they’d move on. No one’s looking forward to a future with him. A kid streaked past. It should have been his foot on the metal contraption, his body blown apart. It should have been –

A sharp stab smacked his nose. Ben let out a yelp of surprise. A single snowshoe tumbled into the soft ice at his feet.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! He stole my purse!” A civilian woman yelled. She pointed past Ben. The kid had made it halfway down the street. She wouldn’t be able to catch him.

Something clicked, like stepping on a landmine.

Ben swung around and sprinted. What was he doing? Why is he even running after a civilian? Was it any of his business? After two years in training, his instinct moved his body for him. His legs took short strides on the slippery snow. His feet stayed low on the ground. He kept an eye out for cracks and holes, for the kid about to slip any moment now. He saw the obstacle course they went through in training, saw Testor jogging in front of him, Finn and Poe behind him, chanting cadences (Mama, mama, can’t you see, what the army’s done to me?), laughing, whole, alive –

The kid threw his hands in the air and fell with a yell. Ben pinned him against the cold street. The kid kicked, punched, struggled against all eighty kilograms of him. A rubber shoe pounded against his ribs. Small nails scratched the skin off his arms. But the kid’s strikes were nothing compared to Testor’s playful punches to his abs, which she called ‘love taps’.

The kid screamed, “Help! Help! He’s molesting me! He’s sexually abusing me!”

No one cared.

Ben tore the purse out of the boy’s hands. It was white, with large pearls – one of those bags that could buy a veteran a year of financial assistance.

The woman managed to catch up to them, breathless. Her chest rose and fell. Her cheeks flushed and made her look as if she was blushing. Her white ruffled jacket looked just as authentic as the purse.

“Thank you.” Her eyes widened upon seeing Ben’s face, as if she tried to place where she had seen him before. Or maybe she just saw the imprint her snowshoe left on his nose. She took the purse from him, her gloves brushing against his fingers.

“Let me go! Let me go!” The kid screamed.

Ben stood while keeping his hand on the back of the kid’s collar, and forced him on his feet to face the woman he had wronged. He wiped a wet spot on his cheek and it left blood on his hand.

“What’s your name, kid?” Ben said.

“None of your business, shit lord.” The kid snarled, trying to tear his dirty parka from Ben’s grasp, his brown hair sullied with slush. But Ben has held onto his M-16 while crawling through mud, scaling walls, and running miles and miles with a pack full of gear on his back. The kid still struggled against his vice grip even if he knew he’s lost.

“You look familiar. Is your face on a milk carton somewhere? Maybe our friends in the precinct could tell us.”

“Okay! Okay! My name is Han. Han Solo. Please don’t bring me in to the coppers. I’m just a little kid.”

The kid stuck out his lower lip and sniffled, his arms hanging limp by his sides. The way this kid manipulates adults just shows he’s going to go far in life. Poe lost an eye and a leg so that demonic children like these could run free. Poe would throw his head back and guffaw, saying they’re exactly why he would risk losing a limb.

“I’ll let the lady decide what she’d like to do with you.” Ben said.

The woman’s hazel eyes glanced at him and at the sniveling child. She leaned down up to the kid’s eye level and stray strands of brown hair fell from her now messy bun, framing either side of her face. She looked at the kid with burning intent. Ben thought she should grace the front cover of fashion magazines.  
\- he should avoid such thoughts. It’s impossible not to have a boyfriend when you look like you’re modeling for the clothes you casually walk the city in.

“You tried to steal from me because you were hungry, right?” The woman smiled and Ben wondered if her lips were naturally such a shade of red.

She took out a bar of Rice Krispies from her purse. Han stopped sniffling. He snatched it out of her hands and ripped off the wrapping. The wrapper crinkling sounded like heavy boots grinding on packed snow. He glared at the woman with defiance, teeth chomping on crunchy rice and marshmallows. She had seen a deeper hunger in a kid who had wronged her, and instead of punishing him, gave him a treat. Ben wanted to push the kid’s head down until he was kissing the floor in a kowtow.

“I think if Han promises to never steal again he could run along home.” The woman said.

“I promise! I promise!” The kid swiped his eyes with his sleeves, snot dribbling down his tiny nostrils.

“Promise her you’ll be good and you’ll stay safe.” Ben said.

The kid bared his teeth at him. “Why do you care?”

“Because my friend was a private officer in the Army, and she died protecting kids like you.”

Ben let go of his collar. The kid stayed in place for a second, staring up at him, his young mind trying to wrap around the meaning of Ben’s words. He gave him a nudge. Han scampered down the sidewalk and took the first turn out of sight.

The woman placed her hands behind her back, glancing to the side, biting her lower lip. Ben wondered if he had caught sight her before, through some misty shop window or caught a glimpse of her across the street a lifetime ago. Then she coughed.

“I’d like to thank you, mister…?”

Ben forced himself to blink to stop staring at her smile.

“Ben. Ben Organa. And you are?”

“I’m Rey Kenobi. So, Mister Ben Organa, may I buy you coffee?”

Ben could train his body through metal and mud, but he could never stop himself from falling for someone. He runs the risk of longing to spend every second with her, knowing it could be his last. He’s in danger of wishing he could steal kisses with her the way Finn and Poe did when they thought no one was looking. Ben thought of them back in the hospital room, and remembered the million ways his heart could break. So why even try?

Because this wasn’t a war between a nation and another. It’s just coffee. Take the risk of sharing a moment – just one, kind moment. It’s the difference between surviving and living.

“Why not?” Ben allowed himself a smirk.


End file.
